My grandma turned 80 this year and as I constantly say it’s important to give the roses while the person is alive to appreciate them. So let me first start by saying that Mary Core (my grandma) has been my favorite person since I was a kid. She’s the reason I have favorites: strawberry shortcake ice cream, cream soda and root beer, and grilled cheese with syrup. She was the ice cream truck fairy. The biggest thing for me was that she made me feel like I was a part of the family. As a kid I felt like a black sheep: weird and off kilter, but she would ask about things I was into. When I started getting into rock music I was (still am) a huge fan of Incubus. ‘Pardon Me’ explained a lot about how I felt about the world at the time, and years later when I saw her again she even remembered to ask if I still “liked that one band”. It was a small gesture, but it was one of the first times where I spoke about something that meant something to me and she listened. She always listened. I never took that for granted. When I left the military and stayed in New Jersey for a while, I asked her if I could stay with her when the plan fell apart and there was no hesitation in making space for me.
I did as much as I could to be of use while staying there and to be honest I still don’t feel like I did enough to help her. I mean I did what I could, but she was still independent and “in charge”. I wasn’t getting in her way, she can be very hood 🤣. If it wasn’t for her I wouldn’t have been able to grow my friendship with Stephen or Noah, I wouldn’t have gone to a school where I grew into philosophy, and I wouldn’t have felt so attached to my distant relatives. Mary Core has been a safe space for me my whole life and I’ve been lucky to have her as a relative. To be honest I still don’t feel I have lived up to my imaginary expectations she doesn’t have for me, and I’m still trying to “repay” her simply by being. I don’t think that’s enough, and I’m ignoring the “grandkids” question because it’s always there. But maybe she knows something I don’t? I don’t know, but thinking about her is comforting. Knowing that she is turning 80 reminds me of the endurance of Black lives and the strength of Black women. I know she was born in Florida and that’s about as much of the history I asked about. Black history is often a hard question to ask about because regardless of how people feel, the trauma, if not worked on, is still there. So I merely stopped after “moved from Florida”. She likes Syracuse Orangeman to an almost uncomfortable extent, I had a lot of memorabilia.
I don’t just celebrate her birthday, but I celebrate her existence in my life and how she has made me ME. So there aren’t enough roses to give a Goddess.
Something With Nothing 